


It's Not That Same Old Star (You Wanted for Your Own)

by primreceded



Category: Supernatural RPS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-17
Updated: 2008-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:10:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primreceded/pseuds/primreceded





	It's Not That Same Old Star (You Wanted for Your Own)

**Title:** It's Not That Same Old Star (You Wanted for Your Own)  
 **Rating:** nc17  
 **Fandom:** Supernatural RPS  
 **Disclaimer:** The characters within this fic are real people, they belong to themselves. This story is a work of fiction, no character defemation was intended. Title from Stan Rogers' _First Christmas_. I am in no way earning money or other profit from this fanfic.  
 **Char/Pair:** Jared/Sandy, Jared/OMC, Jensen/OMC, Jared/Jensen  
 **Prompt:** Pink Flamingo tree topper @ [cracktastic_j2](http://community.livejournal.com/cracktastic_j2)  
 **Spoilers:** None for _Supernatural_ however there are spoilers for the _Wicked_ musical.  
 **Warnings:** Slash, strong language.  
 **W/C:** 8,671  
 **A/N:** Aheheheh. Unbeta'd, mistakes are mine.

The show ends after seven seasons. Too many rehashed storylines and no new monsters to fight, two years after anyone really expected it to last but it was still like ripping the rug out from under his feet and Jensen finds himself falling. It’s almost immediate, there’s no moment of suspension after the director yells cut, when the crew starts breaking down sets; from the second he takes off his Dean face and slips back into _Jensen_ it’s a split second into a downward spiral. He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Jared says it’s just because he’d gotten used to having a steady job and now that he doesn’t have anything to fill his time with he’s got to learn to adjust. But _Jared_ doesn’t seem to be having a problem. He has plenty of things to fill the empty spaces.

The second night in a row Jensen eats dinner alone he’s pretty much resigned himself to the fact that none of those things include him.

\----

Jensen drinks his morning coffee to the clink-clank of lifting weights, takes his shower after Jared hollers that he’s going to run with the dogs. He teases Jared about turning into the Hulk one day when he comes in sweaty and huffing after his latest work out. Jared just grins, kisses his biceps and throws his sweat covered towel in Jensen’s face.

“Not all of us can just let gravity take over, old man,” he quips and Jensen shoots him the finger before he sprints up the stairs to the bathroom.

Jensen tries not to watch the muscles flex under his bare back.

\---

Jared puts his house up for sale almost a year after the show ends. He’d signed onto some project that’s set to shoot in the States and he doesn’t know when he’ll be back in Vancouver. He apologizes to Jensen to the point of driving him crazy, offers Jensen the choice of buying from him at a discount and makes sure Jensen knows it’s okay if he wants to move to L.A. with him when Jensen turns him down. He really _can’t_. He’d overstayed his welcome around three years ago and it’s time he made his own way in life. He’s thirty-three years old for God’s sake.

He’ll pack his bags and take it like a man.

\---

His mom airs out his old room for him, no questions asked after she makes sure he‘s okay, and Jensen is grateful. He knows she’ll ask eventually and he’ll have to face the truth but for now he’s happy with what she’s offering.

He’s laid out on his bed, a good three inches of overhang at the foot makes his legs hurt as his feet dangle but he doesn’t bother scooting up. Everything is still where it was when he was a kid, before he took off to California and Big Dreams. He’d always thought his was one of those kinds of mom’s who moves out all of their kid’s crap and turns their bedroom into a sewing den or yoga palace or something ridiculous like that. But instead he’s got his childhood staring back at him from dusty dressers and yellowing wallpaper. He’s not sure which is worse.

He was also kind of a boring kid.

A sudden vibration from his ass startles him and he jumps slightly, cramping up his foot. He rolls, jiggles his foot to shake out the cramp while digging his phone from his back pocket. There’s no need to check the screen, only one person ever sends him text messages.

_Cali is hot_

He smirks and presses send for the callback, listens to the irritating pop song Jared’s set up instead of a ring until Jared decides to answer. When he does he’s breathless and Jensen has to squash the sudden images of how he might’ve gotten that way from his mind.

“What’s the matter Jay, the frigid Vancouver air soften your ass up or what?”

“Whatever, bitch, you _wish_ you had my ass,” Jared snorts.

And yeah, he does. Just. In a different way. One that would probably have Jared hanging up on him and never speaking to him again (and maybe in a way that makes him semi-hard in his jeans) so, _deny_. Or better yet change the subject completely because, why are they talking about his ass anyway?

“How’s the shooting coming?”

Jared just makes a noncommittal grunt, one Jensen recognizes from the Christmas Cottage days when Jared had tried to convince everyone he came in contact with that it was a brilliant movie. He’d really only signed up because of the names that were attached. Jensen had heard _Peter O’Fuckin’ Toole_ so many times he started to hate the man without ever having met him.

“That bad, huh?”

“Well it’s not exactly DeVour but I don’t think it’ll be winning any major awards,” Jensen just rolls his eyes at Jared’s lame comeback because Christ, he knows how horrible DeVour was, he was _in_ the damn thing, but it says something if the only thing people can come back to when trying to trash talk is a movie you made in your early twenties so he just shrugs it off. Just proof of a halfway decent career.

They trade barbs back and forth for a few minutes - something about Paris Hilton and the Clap and McSteamy and incest by proxy of Jeff. Easy banter that hasn’t changed even though they’re not in the same house anymore and it’s been almost a month since they’ve seen each other. But then Jared clears his throat in a way that has Jensen sitting up and attentive.

“I ran into Sandy a couple of weeks ago, man she still looks exactly the same,” Jared says. There’s something about the way his voice sounds that Jensen can’t figure out and he’ll still puzzle over it later when he’s lying in the same bed fighting sleep. He tries to pay attention to the rest of what he’s saying but it’s hard to hear over the rushing in his ears, or the way his stomach tumbles and his blood runs cold.

“We’ve gone out on a couple of dates, and I don’t know. I think it might work this time.”

There’s a long moment where Jensen can’t say anything, just sits there gaping and staring blankly at his cowboy covered wallpaper. He knows Jared’s waiting for some kind of response but he’s not sure if he can give him the one he seems to want.

It’s not like he expected Jared to wake up one morning and suddenly realize he was gay, that he was in love with his best friend. He has no _romantic notions_ and he knows he shouldn‘t feel like this about him. It’s not fair to Jared. But he’s not sure what Jared wants from him.

“Jensen?”

“Yeah, man,” he finally snaps out of it and he hopes Jared can’t hear the cracking plastic of his cell phone as he squeezes it tight. “That’s great, I’m happy for you. I hope it all happens the way you want it to.”

It isn’t a lie, really, he wants Jared to be happy.

“Thanks, man. I just wanted you to know.”

It sounds final, almost, and he wonders if Jared has known about him all along.

\---

Summer goes by quickly and before he knows it it’s the end of August. It’s a little strange to not be packing up to head back to Vancouver. He wonders sometimes about the people who had bought the house from Jared; who has gotten his old room, if they‘ve got dogs who appreciate the backyard and all the flowers they can dig up as much as Harley and Sadie did.

He’s had to go out and buy all new T-shirts to replace the sweaters and long sleeves he’d gotten for the Canadian chill and his coat swishes unused in it‘s dry cleaner bag every time he opens his closet door. Texas is stifling sometimes.

His agent has been calling him practically every day for a month, overnighting him scripts that he leaves piled up on the floor by his mother’s couch. He hasn’t cracked one of them since they started coming in and he doesn’t have the want to.

It’s just. He’s enjoying his time off. He hasn’t had a break in years, hopping from project to project even during hiatus, so it’s nice. Kicking back and hanging out with old friends from high school, _being lazy_. He’s finally gotten that feeling of sudden-falling jerk out of his belly that’s been there since the show ended and he’s not ready to give up the peacefulness yet.

He knows he’s going to have to work again, can’t hang around his parent’s house forever, no matter how many times his momma says he can stay as long as he wants. He knows she’s just glad to have one of her kid’s back in the house, someone to take care of who isn’t his father.

He’s not sure what he wants to do. Maybe get a gig with the local theater, he heard they’re putting on a production of _Wicked_ next and he thinks that might be fun. He tells Chris as much the next time he talks to him. He should know better.

“You’d be perfect as the Scarecrow, since you ain’t got a lick of sense,” his friend drawls. Jensen can hear the plucking of guitar strings in the background and figures it must be Steve. It’s not a song he recognizes, though. It’s low and lilting, sad. Jensen finds himself thinking up lyrics as he listens.

“Yeah and you’d make the perfect Toto with your stumpy little legs,” Steve deadpans and Jensen cackles as Chris splutters and curses and tells Steve to mind his damn own business.

“Heard from your boy?” Chris asks when Jensen’s finally calmed down enough to carry on the conversation.

“No.”

And he hasn’t, not since that day Jared called to tell him he and Sandy were back together. Not directly at least; Jared has sent a couple of text messages and Jensen had left a couple of voicemails but that was it. He doesn’t know if he’s purposely avoiding Jared, he doesn’t think so, but he’s not going out of his way to get in touch with him either.

“Maybe you got more sense than I give ya credit for,” Chris says.

He doesn’t sound convinced and Jensen knows he probably shouldn’t.

\---

Jensen auditions for the Richardson All-City Theatre Group’s production of _Wicked_ and manages to land the role. Much to Chris’s delight, he is, sort of, the Scarecrow. But Fiyero is a Prince first, that counts for something doesn’t it? Still that doesn’t stop his friend from calling him up and singing _If I Only Had a Brain_ all hours of the night.

His agent isn’t thrilled about it when he tells her but she just sighs and doesn’t lecture and tries to spin it as best she can. He doesn’t expect any reason for anyone to care that he’s starring in some small town theater production, and they don’t for the most part. He gives an interview to the Dallas Gazette and Steve tells him there’s a blurb in Entertainment Weekly but that’s it. It’s not like _A Few Good Men_ where everybody and their brother came out to see him. Jared isn’t there.

He sits for an hour as the make up girl places little blue diamonds all over his face and grumbles while she does so because it’s not like it shows up on stage anyway and she’s got more important things she can be doing, like trying to cover up the major case of shine all over Nessa’s forehead. Jensen himself is breathless by the time she places the last one and storms from his small dressing room in a flurry of make up brushes and complaints.

The musical is basically a success, he only flubs his lines a couple of times and doesn’t forget the words to any of his songs so he calls it a win. He doesn’t connect with the character though, (doesn’t understand really what the hell is going on, but it’s a paycheck - it’s something to get him out of his parents house and away from the weight of his mother‘s knowing looks) and he doesn‘t try to become friends with any of his fellow cast mates, with the crew.

Eventually people stop asking him to come along for a late dinner, to grab some drinks, waving goodbye instead as he climbs into his car. He does his job and he goes home to sleep, the scent of make up still clinging to his skin. It’s maybe a little lonely.

He’s glad when, a month later, the lights go off on the Wicked Witch and her friends for good.

\---

The first time he realized he might like Jared as more than a friend they were playing Guitar Hero in Jared’s living room. Jensen hadn’t been living there long and he still felt like a guest, no matter how many times Jared told him to make himself at home or Harley slobbered all over his bed in what Jared said was “his way of saying mi casa es su casa“. Jared was flailing along to The Edgar Winter Group, not even hitting any of the right notes and Jensen just sat back watching, fond smile playing on his lips.

It was when Jared flipped his hair out of his eyes and turned to Jensen with a grin that it hit him. That he wanted to kiss the wide stretch right off of his mouth, that he might be a little bit in love with Jared Padalecki. The realization knocked the breath right out of him and he’d had to jump up and leave the room.

The sound of the guitar and amp dying as the song failed was like the soundtrack to his fucking life.

\---

He‘s sitting on the back porch strumming his guitar and trying to remember that song Steve was playing the night he‘d talk to Chris when the backdoor screech-slams behind him. His mom’s bare feet slap against the wood and he stiffens, wondering if now is the time she wants to have that heart to heart. He has no idea what he’d even say other than _I’m a fuck up_ but he doesn’t think she wants to hear that.

He’s worried for nothing, though because she’s standing there, silhouetted by the porch light in her nightgown and clutching the phone - one hand covering the mouthpiece.

“Honey, it’s Jared,” she gives him a pointed look as she says this, almost conspiratorially. Like maybe she’d lie and tell Jared he’s not home or he’s asleep if Jensen just gives the word. He wonders if he’s really that obvious.

He smiles at her and reaches for the phone, waits until she’s back inside before he puts the handset up to his ear. It’s quiet on the other end and if it weren’t for the lack of dial tone he’d wonder if Jared had hung up.

“Hey, Jared. What’s up?” He tries to keep his voice even, doesn’t want it to betray the knot that’s just formed in his stomach. He hasn’t talked to Jared for months but it shouldn’t be like this. It kind of pisses him off a little. He’s a grown man, damn it.

“Jensen, man it’s good to hear your voice,” Jared’s own is a deep hum, just above a whisper, and Jensen thinks there must be someone in the room with him, Sandy probably, and he doesn’t want them to hear. But that can’t be right because why would Jared hide the fact that he’s calling?

He agrees, though, it is nice to hear from him again after so long of a time. They shoot the shit for a while, Jared talking about how not-awesome his movie is and all the PR he had to do for it; how nice it was to finally look someone in the eye when doing an interview but that Conan’s freckles reminded him of Jensen’s and he was a slight distracted by them, though they weren‘t as adorable. That has Jensen blushing, mumbling _shut up, man_ and thinks maybe Jared should be embarrassed about it but probably isn‘t. Jared’s able to get away with saying things like that, casually, like it doesn’t have an effect on Jensen at all.

Jensen tells him about _Wicked_ and Jared laughs and says he’s sorry he missed Jensen in a scarecrow costume. Promises the next time he plays someone who is brainless he’ll be there to witness it.

“So you know, your next role.”

“Haha, very funny smartass.”

“There you go,” Jared chuckles, “Talking about my ass again. I’m starting to wonder if you’ve got a thing for it, Jen.”

Jensen swallows wrong, chokes - not very subtly - sharp and strained that makes his temples hurt, tries to play it off with a gruff cough into his fist. He knows Jared was only joking but yeah, hit a little too close to home. He doesn’t say anything in reply and a minute of awkward silence later Jared huffs a laugh.

“So anyway I was thinking of coming down for a couple of days, haven’t really seen my family since the show ended you know, and my mom has been slipping a little more guilt in with each phone call. Since I’ve got a break now, thought I’d come home for a little bit,” Jared says.

Jensen feels his stomach flip and his heart rate speed up in a very thirteen-year-old-girl-with-a-crush way - the traitors - as his mind helpfully supplies a litany of no, no, no, _shit no_.

“I was thinkin’ we could get together at some point. Maybe go out for a drink or dinner like we used to?”

The question hangs heavy and hopeful and Jensen really wants to say yes but he really wants to say no more. It’s one thing to talk to him on the phone but something else entirely to see him face to face. Not to mention he’ll probably bring Sandy. _Shit no_.

“Sure man, that’ll be great.”

\---

After piling all of his belongings into the trunk of his car he kisses his momma’s cheek and shakes his father’s hand. He’s grateful for them, knows he’ll always have a place to stay should he need it.

He doesn’t look back as he drives away.

\---

The first time (and last, thank God) Jensen walks in on Jared having sex with another man is during their fifth season. He comes home late from set after having done thirteen hours, eyes red and puffy from crying _again_ \- and really for someone who is supposed to be a Big Damn Demon Hunter, Dean Winchester is an awfully big cry baby - so his eyes are drooping heavy with sleep and tears.

He can practically hear his bed calling to him as he slides his key into the lock on the front door, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake Jared. The hall’s dark, though there’s light coming in from the kitchen, dull yellow but enough that he doesn’t trip over anything - Jared‘s giant shoes for example. The television is on low, and it’s a laugh track to some talk show or sitcom that ushers him around the corner and to the edge of the living room.

Jared’s laid stretched out on his couch _“Your couch is ugly Jay“, “Our couch Jen, what’s mine is yours”_ , head thrown back with eyes shut and mouth gasp-wide. The light from the T.V. flickers over his face, casting shadows to highlight the obvious pleasure there. Jensen’s breath catches in his throat and he knows he should turn and leave but he can’t seem to walk away just yet.

He can’t see the other guy’s face, doesn’t _want_ to and it wouldn’t make a difference - all he’d see would be his own face anyway. Jared’s letting out little grunts and whispers that shoot straight to Jensen’s cock and it’s then, half hard and wanting that he turns and runs as quiet as he can back out the front door.

He sits in his car in their driveway, head bent over the steering wheel as he jerks off into his fist, Jared‘s pale T.V.-glow face flashing behind his eyelids.

\---

He’d stopped at some roadside thing, small convenience store that isn’t stocked with much of anything food-wise and not very convenient at all. There are plenty of t-shirts and rubber crocodiles for sale, though. A giant fiberglass man stands in the parking lot casting a shadow over his car as he looms, armless, and it’s kinda fucking creepy.

He hesitates for a second before dialing up Chris, needing directions to where they are exactly. He’s pretty sure he heard rumblings of Florida, Miami to be specific, but he‘s not sure. They were in Milwaukee last week and he doesn’t want to drive all the way _there_. Though the beer is probably pretty awesome.

 

 

Florida suspicions confirmed when Chris finally answers on the twelfth ring, voice rough and groggy. He still sounds like that, a few hours later, when he answers the hotel door to let Jensen in. He knuckles the sleep from his eyes, stepping back to let Jensen through with a wide yawn.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you,” Chris starts as he sets a mug of coffee in front of Jensen a few moments later. “But what are you doin’ here?”

Jensen shifts on the spindly stool in the hotel room’s tiny kitchenette and avoids looking Chris in the eye. Truth is he doesn’t know why he‘s there, other than the fact that he panicked and ran like a little bitch. But he can’t tell Chris that, because he’d never hear the end of it.

“It’s complicated,” he says finally.

“Shit Jenny, everything with you is complicated.”

Jensen sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. He figures Chris is owed an explanation, that he’s going to figure it out sooner or later, anyway, so he swallows his pride and plays with the handle of his coffee mug so he doesn‘t have to look Chris in the eye.

“Jared called a couple of days ago,” he says and Chris snorts. Jensen glares at him and he makes the gesture to keep going as he takes a sip of coffee, a look of amusement in his eyes. “He said since he had some time off he was thinking of headin’ down to see his mom, wanted to stop by and see me. I just,” he pauses, unsure of where to go from there.

“But you don‘t want to see him, so you hauled ass out of state,” Chris finishes for him and Jensen nods.

“Basically, yeah.”

“Well damn, I didn’t know I was best friends with a twelve year old girl.”

Jensen lets out an indignant huff and climbs to his feet, makes his way over to the sink to dump out his coffee. He watches the brown liquid swish over the sides of the stainless steel before rinsing his cup and setting it on the counter. He turns to lean against it, back to Chris, and stares at the floor.

“You don‘t get it,” he says.

“No, I do get it,” Chris’s voice is quiet, no hint of mocking and Jensen looks over at him, eyebrow raised. “You think Steve and I came this way?”

Jensen had forgotten about the two of them and he blushes. It seems like they had always been together but that wasn’t the case. He remembers now, how big of a fool Chris used to be.

“I remember you almost choking on your tongue when he finally kissed you,” he says with a grin.

“He took me by surprise, that’s all,” Chris mumbles. “My point is, we got there didn’t we? No matter how many times he made an ass of himself --”

“Ha!”

“--it happened for us. You’re not gonna get anywhere if you keep runnin’.”

Jensen knows Chris is right, nothing’s ever going to change if he doesn’t make it, but their situations are different. He and Jared aren’t dancing around each other and pretending to be ignorant, Jared really (hopefully) doesn’t know anything about Jensen’s feelings for him.

“Besides, he has Sandy,” he says aloud.

Chris comes over and stands next to him, gives him a clap on the back that turns into a reassuring shoulder squeeze and says, “Then it’s high time you got over him, boy.”

\---

Miami is a different kind of heat than Texas. It’s moist and settles over everything like a wet blanket, makes everything sticky. Jensen sits in some tiny hole in the wall that Chris had dragged him to, listening to his friends up on stage, singing some old song of theirs he hasn‘t heard in too long of a time. The fans overhead do very little to cool the place, just push the heat around in waves and Jensen’s shirt sticks in places against his back. The beer is cold, though, which is a couple of dashes in the pro column.

Steve had met them there, hugged Jensen, told him how good it was to see him before throwing him a knowing look when Chris had pulled him aside and whispered something in his ear. Jensen had squirmed under his gaze before heading into the bar and ordering himself a drink.

He’s not drunk, doesn’t want to be - has never been the type to drown his sorrows in alcohol, but he’s got a nice buzz going. The atmosphere, despite the dense heat, is a friendly one, no one seems to care that he used to be that one dude from that now canceled television show. Stomach rumbling, he looks around to see if he can snag a passing waitress, could maybe go for a burger.

He places his order and is turning back to the stage when someone else catches his eye. The guy is staring directly at Jensen and when he realizes he’s been found out he blushes and looks down. He’s not too tall, tanned from the Miami sun and when he looks up again he gives Jensen a tentative smile - his teeth a bright white against the darkened skin.

No dimples in sight.

 

He wants to say something, maybe something cliché like _I don’t normally do this_ but he can’t say anything - tongue dry and stuck to the roof of his mouth. Can only grunt in appreciation, back pressed against burning brick and hands fisted in slicked back black hair as No-Dimples, _C_ he’d said, _The letter not the word. Short for something you can’t pronounce_ , sucks him down. Mouth red and wet and heat, an old pro it seems.

He tugs on the hair beneath his fingers, tries not to slam his cock down the guy’s throat before he can pull off, but then he is, with an obscene pop and fisting him the rest of the way. He doesn’t care that it’s been less than five minutes. He hasn’t had anyone else’s anything in so long, he’ll be embarrassed about it later, after he comes.

Sated, he leans his head back against the wall, watches the guy lick his come from between his fingers and his cock gives an interested twitch. He hitches up his pants, zips and buttons before grabbing C by he hand and pulling him away. He doesn’t think Chris’ll mind if he ditches him just this once.

\---

Two weeks pass and Jensen finds himself apartment hunting. There’s one he loves, pretty far from the beach but if he wants to go that bad he’ll just hop in his car. It’s nice and quiet, big enough for him to move around in and there’s a restaurant right around the corner that sells some of the best Cuban food he’s ever eaten in his life.

He signs the lease and the landlord hands over the key before leaving him standing there in his new, barren apartment.

\---

He invites C over and they fuck in the empty living room before sitting down to tamales and black beans, paper plates spread out on their laps as they cut into the husks with plastic forks. He isn’t his boyfriend, and Jensen doesn’t want him to be. They’re just two guys hanging out and having fun, no strings or emotions attached.

He hasn’t heard from Jared at all, and maybe he misses him a little some days. Right then, for example, thinking that Jared would probably love what they’re eating - can almost imagine the blissed out look on his face he gets when eating something particularly tasty.

But then C is putting their plates aside and crawling into his lap and kissing all thoughts of Jared and anything else from his mind.

\---

He spends his days picking up odds and ends for his apartment, a couch and coffee table, some kind of ugly ass lamp and a new mattress. His nights are spent with Chris and Steve, sometimes he sits in with them while they play, and on one rather drunken occasion he sat in _for_ them. Got his tab settled for his efforts and a round of applause complete with hoots and whistles while C climbed up on stage and kissed him stupid.

He’d called his agent up, told her maybe he would be on hiatus indefinitely and to go ahead and pick up another client to make up for her loss with him. She wasn’t surprised, wished him the best of luck but hung up before he could do the same. He knows he’s probably going to miss out on something big over in Hollywood, that staying out of the game for too long will come back to bite him in the ass. But he’s happy with the way things are, living his life the way he wants and not how his contract dictates. He can be anything now.

He’s on his way home from the grocery, hands piled full with plastic bags. He hadn’t bothered to take the car, the market is only a couple of blocks away and with winter settling in the days have cooled down considerably. He’s in a good neighborhood, and he likes to stop and talk to the elderly lady who runs the Laundromat, she calls him Sweetie and bakes him things, tells him about her days as a dancer in Little Havana in her thick accent.

He takes the elevator up to his apartment, glad for it with the heavy bags turning his fingers a nice shade of purple. The elevator groans to a stop at his floor and transfers bags so he can dig his keys from his pocket. One of the bags rips, spilling its contents along the floor and he curses, squats to pick up and shove into the other bags what he can.

A can of beans rolls away from him and he watches it go, as it rests at someone’s feet. He looks up, and up. And damn.

“Hey, Jensen.”

\---

Jensen is incredibly nervous as he sits there in Kripke’s office waiting. He’s supposed to be meeting his co-star and Jensen’s always been rough with first impressions. His palms are sweaty and he wipes them off on his jeans, leaving the denim moist in their wake. It’s a little ridiculous, actually, that he can’t seem to get himself under control. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s ever met anyone, but he’d looked up this Jared Padaguy and he knows that he’s good at his job, doesn’t want to make a complete ass of himself in front of someone he’s got to work with for, hopefully, the next five years.

But then Jared comes barreling through the door, all legs and arms and crazy hair, smiling and grabbing his hand before Jensen even has a chance to get off the sofa. He exudes, is the epitome of, confidence.

Jensen says something funny and Jared’s big booming head-thrown-back laugh has Jensen’s nerves soothed and calm as they take their seats for their joint audition.

\---

“Jared. Man, what are you doing here?” He knows he sounds every bit as surprised as he feels, he just hopes Jared doesn’t take it the wrong way. But then again he did show up on Jensen’s door step without calling first, so let him think what he wants.

“You owe me a drink, remember?” He bends over to pick up the can of green beans and hands it back to Jensen with a small hopeful smile. Jensen suddenly feels like shit.

“Right. Yeah, dude come on in,” he says and takes the can. Jared grabs one of the bags from him so he can get the key in the door and then they’re both inside his suddenly too small apartment. He flips on lights as he goes, leading Jared into the kitchen where he sets the groceries down.

“Nice place you got, Jense,” Jared says as he starts unpacking his bag and setting the food onto the counter. Jensen looks around at his mostly furnished apartment and nods. It’s home now, more than his place in L.A. had ever been. Though if he’s honest it’s not quite up there with his stint in Vancouver with Jared. It might take a while for that to happen, though he’s resigned himself to the fact it might not.

“Thanks,” he replies. “It’s not the White House, but it’s enough for me.”

They unpack the bags in silence and then Jared watches as Jensen puts the food away. Everything has a place and by now he knows where it all goes so it’s not long before it’s all done and he’s pulling out two beers, passing one to Jared and giving him a tour. It doesn’t take long, he’s only got two bedrooms and a bathroom, he’d already seen the kitchen and they have to pass through the living room to get to everything else.

They circle back and plop down on the couch and Jensen flips on the television, through the channels until he lands on some random football game, sound on mute. He knows they have to talk, that he probably owes Jared some kind of explanation for taking off the way he did, after promising the guy he’d be there when got to Texas. He doesn’t know where to start though. Jared’s watching him, taking sips from his beer when he’s not peeling the label off with his fingernail.

“So how’ve you been?” Jared asks and Jensen startles, blushes with embarrassment when Jared laughs at him.

“Good, real good,” he says. “Just hangin’ out, y’know?”

Jared nods and takes another sip of his beer, not taking his eyes off of Jensen, “Your mom said you came down to help out Chris?”

“You talked to my mom?” Jensen asks, surprised. He pictures Jared showing up on his parents’ doorsteps eager to see Jensen only to find out he’d taken off without even saying goodbye or kiss my ass.

“Well, you know. I called to talk to you, but you obviously weren’t home,” Jared replies.

“Right. Chris and Steve have had these gigs, I’ve just been lugging their equipment around for them. Needed a change of scenery, so when he asked…” Jensen trails off, doesn’t think his lie sounds believable to his own ears but Jared’s nodding again.

The conversation lulls for a minute after that but then Jared‘s asking, “Were you ever going to call me?” Voice quiet and small, a way Jared Padalecki should never sound.

“Of course,” he says. “I’ve just. I had some things that I needed to figure out. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be sticking around or not, and then I just got kind of busy. You know how it is.”

“Yeah, I know.”

And then Jared’s finishing his beer, setting the empty bottle onto the coffee table and standing up. Jensen sets his bottle down too and stands, hands in his pocket and faces Jared, stares at his feet.

“I should go.”

“You got a place to stay?”

“Well not really, no. I came over as soon as I hit town. I wanted to see you,” Jared grins sheepishly, hand going to the back of his neck.

“I can recommend an awesome motel, dude. It’s just down the street, cheapest rates in town,” He says, but he’s grinning when Jared looks at him surprised. Jared punches him in the arm, calls him a fucker and the tension drains from Jensen.

“Man you know I can’t let you stay in some motel, not after living in your house for all those years,” he says.

“It was your house too, Jensen.”

Jensen just rolls his eyes and waves his hand to say whatever before grabbing his keys again and ushering Jared through the door to go get his stuff from his car.

Letting Jared stay is an epically stupid idea.

“Don‘t even think of eating all my candy, bitch,” he says.

\---

When he calls Chris to let him know that Jared’s going to be staying with him for a bit, there’s the sound of the phone hitting the floor with a dull thud and then Chris’s muffled laughter for ten minutes straight.

\---

They fall into a rhythm and it should be surprising but it isn’t. Jensen divvies up the chores and they go out to eat and they don’t talk about the giant elephant in the room. Jensen’s pretty sure there’s another reason for Jared showing up on his doorstep other than wanting a drink. He doesn’t ask though, at least not after that first time when Jared shot him a pained look before staring at the door like he wanted to bolt.

It’s still awkward sometimes, when Jensen remembers that he’s supposed to be in love with his clueless best friend, when Jared catches him staring and he nearly trips over himself trying to get away. It’s not healthy, probably, to be avoiding, but that’s what they do.

He still sees C, tries to be on the sly but he’s pretty sure Jared knows where he’s going, where he’s been when he comes back rumpled and sated. He tries not to let his feelings for Jared bleed over into his sex with C but now that Jared is back in his life he sometimes finds himself staring up at hazel eyes and floppy brown hair.

He knows he should probably call the whole thing off before he does something stupid, but then C is pushing into him slow and amazing and he doesn‘t care.

\---

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” Jared asks him one day. He hadn’t even realized it was November, let alone the end of the month so he really has no idea. He tells Jared as much and Jared nods, thoughtful.

“We could do something here if you want?”

“I don’t know man, maybe.”

Jared falls quiet after that, spends the next half hour staring blankly at the television and Jensen knows he’s going to have to cook a fucking turkey.

 

Chris and Steve come over to celebrate the holiday, they bring beer and pie and they all sit out on Jensen’s balcony after dinner, smoking and drinking and playing the guitar. It’s nice, and Jared didn’t have that faraway look in his eye once the entire day and Jensen gives himself a pat on the back for being responsible for that. Realizes, not for the first time, that he always wants to be the one responsible for it.

\---

Jensen breaks it off with C two days after that. The guy doesn’t seem surprised and Jensen knows he shouldn’t be. There’s no kiss goodbye but there’s no animosity either, and that’s the best Jensen can hope for.

\---

Steve and Chris have a gig and Jensen begs off joining them on stage in favor of sitting in the audience with Jared. It’s nice to have a spectator’s view sometimes of his friends, to watch everyone around him get into the music. That and he wants to get shitfaced.

“Man these things are awesome,” Jared slurs beside him, moaning down at the plate full of empanadas Jensen had ordered for him. Jensen grins, nods. Curses himself for nodding when he gets dizzy from all the liquor.

“I told you!”

Jared grins back and he’s got apple and cinnamon in his teeth and that gets Jensen laughing until he can‘t see through the tears, until he imagines leaning over and licking the sweet from between Jared’s lips and God, so not the best time or place for that. He wrenches his eyes away from Jared’s mouth to his eyes and his breath hitches with the look he finds there.

It’s confusing and disorienting, his pupils blown wide and if Jensen didn’t know any better he’d say there was lust. He jumps up from his chair and mumbles something about the bathroom, suddenly feeling sick, pushes his way through the crowd until he gets to the men’s room, falling to his knees in front of the toilet.

His dry heaves echo off the tile walls and makes him hate himself.

 

They stumble back home at around two and Jensen drops the keys three times before he finally gets them into the lock. Jared giggles behind him every time he does and the heat of him pressed up against him is unbearable. He pushes the door open and practically runs into his apartment and heading to the fridge for a bottle of water. He’s got a nasty taste in his mouth.

“Man I am drunk, Jense,” Jared says and flops down on Jensen’s couch. Jensen stares unseeing at the back of it until Jared’s light snores snaps him out of his daze. He sets his water down and goes over to the couch, scrubs a hand over his face before covering Jared up with the blanket that lays on the back of the couch.

He’s thrumming with energy, the ride home had been a quiet one, it took everything he had not to scream. At Jared, himself, at nothing in particular. He shuts off the lamp at the foot of the couch and goes into his room, strips to his boxers and lays there in the dark. It’s the first time he’s regretted breaking up with C since it happened and he feels like crap because he knows he was just using the guy, he was just a stand in for Jared and the only reason he‘s thinking about it now is because he‘s too big of a coward to just let Jared go.

His bedroom door creaks open, light from the hallway makes it too hard for him to see but he knows it’s Jared standing there, shoulders slumped. He doesn’t say anything as he steps into the room and closes the door, as he makes his way over to Jensen’s bed and kneels down, over.

“Jensen,” his voice is a lot clearer now than before he’d passed out on Jensen’s couch and Jensen thinks maybe he wasn’t as drunk as Jared had pretended to be.

“Jared, what are you --”

“I broke up with Sandy,” he says.

Oh. He’s not really surprised, he’d thought there was something big going on with Jared, with the way he’d just shown up out of nowhere, with the way he’d looked so dejected the entire time. He’s not sure why Jared is telling him now, though.

“I’m sorry,” and he really is. Jared had seemed to want to make things work between the two of them, at least that’s the impression he’d gotten that night Jared had called him. He kind of feels like an ass for thinking about shoving his tongue down his friend’s throat when the guy was obviously having a hard time getting over his girl.

“Don’t be,” Jared replies. And okay, what? “Things weren’t right, and we shouldn’t have gotten back together in the first place. Not when I had feelings for someone else.”

Jensen knows too well how that feels, having done it himself. He’s never known Jared to be the kind of guy who would do that, though. Especially to Sandy, he had loved her. He just nods and waits for Jared to continue. His friend obviously has things he needs to get off his chest, and it’s about time.

“I--” Jared starts but stops himself, looks at Jensen from under his bangs and there’s a half a second where Jensen thinks he must be mulling something over and then he’s leaning in and pressing his lips to Jensen‘s.

Jensen doesn’t know what to do, mind caught between _kiss back you idiot,_ and _flee, run, why are you still laying there?_. Jared doesn’t give him time to choose, though, before he’s pulling away and smiling down at Jensen.

“I just wanted you to know,” he says before getting off Jensen’s bed and padding back to his own room.

\---

In the morning it’s good. Jensen’s only freaking out a little and he catches himself smiling over the rim of his coffee cup a couple of times. He can hear Jared humming down the hall, the bathroom or the guest room he’s not sure. He hasn’t seen him yet, and he doesn’t know what he’d say.

It’s kind of life changing, Jensen thinks. It’s something he’s wanted for, literally, years and now it’s right there waiting for him to grab. So yeah, he panics.

“Morning, Jen.”

Jared’s like a friggin’ ninja sometimes and Jensen starts, coffee spilling over his hand. He brings it up to his mouth and sucks the caffeine from his skin, looks up to scold Jared for sneaking up on someone but stops when he sees Jared’s not exactly looking him in the eye.

“Jensen.”

That’s as far as he gets though and Jensen is up from his chair and striding across the room to do what he should’ve done last night, what he should’ve done that day in Jared’s house back in Vancouver when he was butchering _Frankenstein_. They stand toe to toe and Jensen fists his hands into Jared’s grey Tee, pulls him down and kisses him. It’s much better than it was last night, Jared’s lips are soft and he tastes of mint toothpaste, and maybe, Jensen thinks, a little bit of cinnamon.

When they finally break apart he leans down and hides his face in Jared’s shoulder, hands still fisted in cotton and Jared’s large hands stroke along his back. He breathes Jared in, able to, gets lost in it.

“Tell me you’re not still drunk,” he says.

Jared chuckles, and wraps his arms fully around Jensen’s waist to squeeze him into a hug, “Not drunk, man. Wasn’t drunk last night either,” he says. “I want this Jensen.”

It sounds almost final.

\---

 

Jared leaves the next day with a kiss and promise to be back soon. Jensen doesn’t say anything about it, doesn’t ask him to stay because that’s clingy and they just found each other and Jensen doesn’t want to lose it by being one of those kinds of people. And maybe there’s a little voice in the back of his head that’s saying Jared has changed his mind and Jensen doesn’t want to force him into anything. So he lets him leave. That was a week ago.

\---

Christmas in Miami isn’t much different than any place else. There are lights strung up everywhere, storefront windows spray painted with fake snow that’s been etched through to look like reindeer, a snow man. The Santa’s that stand in front of stores to ring in change for the needy wear red and white tropical shirts, khaki pants to go along with their long beards.

His tree is fake, sits in the corner of the living room with the only available outlet and he decorated it Winchester style just because he could, car air fresheners mixed among the bulbs. He’d already shipped his gifts to his parents last week, tried to beat the holiday rush but was sorely disappointed when he’d hand to stand in line for almost an hour anyway. The gifts that are under the tree are for Chris and Steve, a couple for Jared just incase.

Feeling anti-social he’d told his friends to leave him be for Christmas Eve, would see them next day for dinner, and they were fine with it. Jensen figured they’d want to do their own celebrating together. He yawned, mouth stretched wide and hummed, comfortable enough to just lay there on the couch, watching the lights on his tree chase each other.

He’s halfway to sleep when there’s a knock on his door and he’s tempted to tell whoever it is to go the hell away so he can get back to his nap. He grunts his way off of the couch, cracks a big toe on the coffee table leg and curses and limps his way over to the front door. He’s not expecting anybody, but he wouldn’t put it past Chris and Steve to show up even after he told them not to.

He swings the door open, plenty of curse words on his lips in preparation for Chris’ smiling face, but they die quick. It’s not Chris.

“Jared?”

Jared grins, dimples wide and he pushes his way past Jensen and into the apartment, Harley and Sadie trotting behind him. When they catch sight of Jensen they jump all over him, high-pitched barks and tongues licking their way over every inch they can reach. He manages to push them off after a few futile attempts and Jared just stands there laughing as they take off to explore.

“Shut up, asshole. What are you doing here?”

“I told you I was coming back,” he says. “Didn’t you believe me?”

Jensen blushes and scrubs his hand over the back of his neck, looking every bit the Aw, Shucks. He didn’t really believe him. He’d hoped, sure. But he’d given up on expecting anything a long time ago.

He shrugs by way of response, not able to think of anything to say. There’s hurt in Jared’s eyes when he looks up at him but it passes quickly when Jared steps up, wraps an around his shoulders and presses their foreheads together.

“You’re an idiot, Jensen,” he says and then they’re kissing. Jensen doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of the taste of Jared, hopes the way his stomach flips at the very idea of it never goes away.

Sadie barks and interrupts them, and Jared laughs again when they pull apart. Jensen scratches her behind the ear and she trots off to go lay next to Harley under the tree. Jared presses a wrapped box into his hand and he looks down at it, it’s kind of on the heavy side, rectangular and he has no idea what it could be.

“What’s this?” He asks and looks up at Jared, who shrugs, says _Just open it,_ even as Jensen is starting to tear off the paper.

“A pink flamingo?”

“It’s a tree topper,” Jared says, excited. He grabs the box from Jensen’s hand and opens it, takes the gaudy thing from the box before removing the little dollar store angel Jensen had up there and replacing it with the pink flamingo. When he plugs it in it glows bright, and Jared’s teeth are neon when he grins over at Jensen.

“You are in Miami, after all,” he says. “And I thought maybe it could be ours. Something we put up together.”

“Are you inviting yourself to move in,” Jensen asks, teasing.

“If you’ll have me,” Jared replies.

The undignified squawk Jared lets out when Jensen launches himself at him, when he grabs his head and yanks him down and kisses him, is like music to Jensen’s ears.


End file.
